by R. C. Lewis
The children, however, didn’t know that. I’d insisted the visit be less formal, no rehearsed speeches from me—like I’d know what kind of speech to give. Instead, I visited individual classrooms. The older children were polite, clearly doing exactly what their teacher had told them to. The last classroom was a very young group, though. The children crowded around, so excited, asking more questions than I’d ever heard in my life, never waiting for a response before moving to the next.
“What’s it like living in the palace?”
“Do you really have a swimming pool made of merinium?”
“What’s the queen like? What’s the king like?”
“Did you really live on Thanda? Is it awful there?”
“Geoffrey,” the teacher cut in at the last. “Remember what we said about manners.”
“It’s all right,” I insisted. “Yes, I lived on Thanda since I was a little older than you. It’s very different from Windsong. Much colder and darker. But not everything was awful.”
“What was your favorite thing there?” a girl asked.
I’d never thought about it before, so I considered the question. “Walking at night, when it was quiet and felt like there was no one around for ten links.”
“Ugh, I hate the dark.”
Her reaction made me laugh. So simple and honest, not caring that she was disagreeing with royalty. Why should she?
The teacher asked the children to show me some art projects they’d recently finished. Paintings of everything from the palace to family pets to an imagined creature that lurked in shadows under desks and sucked out children’s brains when they were supposed to be doing their assignments. The teacher’s smile became much more forced as the little girl responsible for that painting told me about the brain-suckers in vivid detail, but I liked the story.
As the others told me about their paintings, I didn’t have to do much other than smile and nod. My mind began to wander, thinking what it would have been like to attend school with other children, to make creative excuses for not doing my work, to play in a park like the children on Candara.
It had never been an option, and it was too late now.
A boy who’d already shyly shown me a picture of his family approached Dane. His little voice just carried over the latest painting narration. “You’re the princess’s guard, right? Part of the Silver Dagger?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Dane said.
“How do you get that job?”
Dane cleared his throat slightly. “Well, my situation was a little different. But to be a guard you have to work hard and be willing to always protect the princess, no matter what.”
I stared harder at a painting of the whistling canyons in front of me. I refused to turn away from it, sensing that if I did I would find Dane’s eyes on me.
“Do you have to do everything she says?” the little boy asked.
“Pretty much.”
I will not look.
“I guess that’s not so bad. Not as bad as when my sister gets all bossy, at least. Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do.”
“What is?”
“Join the Silver Dagger when I’m old enough. I want to protect the princess, too.”
My insides froze and exploded simultaneously. I couldn’t breathe and breathed too much.
Just like Theo. I hadn’t said anything inspiring, anything to make that boy think I was worth protecting, but he wanted to anyway. Wanted to serve. Wanted to get himself killed.
My eyes finally darted to Dane’s. He saw my reaction and smiled kindly at the boy before approaching the teacher.
“We should be going,” he said. “The princess has another appointment to prepare for this evening.”
It was the truth—I had to have dinner with the “young ladies of the court,” when I’d rather have my eyeballs soaked in acid—but it was more than that. It was Dane saving me in another way, by getting me out before I came apart. The children said their goodbyes and I tried to smile, but I didn’t feel it. Finally, we escaped the classroom.
“Essie, it’s all right,” he began.
“I told you, just don’t,” I snapped. Again. “Please…take me home and I’ll get ready for that blazing dinner.”
He shook his head and sighed. “Whatever you say, Princess.”
MY DINNER WITH the young ladies of the court was exactly what I’d expected: giggling girls trying to win my favor with compliments and agreeing with anything I said. The very opposite of the children I’d spent the afternoon with.
I considered saying something about the Exiles, or something distasteful, or just something unhinged and ridiculous to see how they’d respond. That at least would have been amusing. If I thought any of them had a single interesting thing to say, I’d have made her the Royal Best Friend on the spot. No such luck, and my thoughts wandered again.
While we ate dainty hors d’oeuvres, the Candaran prisoners languished in the filth of their decrepit cells, unable to even cry out to each other in their misery. While we feasted on more food than three times our number could eat, citizens of Windsong bled and died in the outland fields, having no idea their enemy was the crown itself. And while the girls picked at rich cakes, fretting about what they would do to their figures, Queen Olivia plotted new schemes to end my life.
I didn’t talk about any of that. Instead I smiled and nodded and laughed when I was supposed to. Every bit the princess my father wanted me to be. Strong but pleasant, agreeable yet authoritative. Still, each giggle and excited squeal I heard made me sick.
One thing helped me keep the mask on. We’d reached the Candaran fleet. Dane and I would make our move within the next few days. We’d take down the defenses, broadcast the truth to the world, and one way or another, it’d all be over.
After hours of nonsense, I made my exit with Iris, an aide charged with accompanying me back to my suite. Walking through the palace without Dane felt strange, but the dinner had been very traditional—no men allowed. Iris led the way in complete silence, which suited me well enough after all the giggling. The quiet corridors felt refreshingly peaceful. At least, they did until the hairs on my arms started prickling. Olivia wouldn’t try anything in the palace with my father around. I knew she wouldn’t, but my nerves wouldn’t listen. I focused on the extra weight of the knife in my boot—helpful if I ever had the wits to use it—and the pressurized cylinder tucked safely in my pocket.
Nothing happened all the way to my suite in the residential wing, and I cursed myself for being a skittish sparrow before bidding Iris good night. With the door closed behind me, I relaxed, pulling my boots off and tossing them aside. Not very princesslike. I didn’t care.
“Dane?”
No response. It was late, so he must have already turned in. I had to stop lashing out at him. Appearances weren’t important anymore, and stress had taken the habit too far. I’d apologize in the morning, and we’d plot out the timeline for the end of the world.
I went to my room and pulled the fastener from my hair, shaking it loose. A swish signaled the door in the front room opening. Apparently, Dane hadn’t already turned in.
“Dane? Where’d you go?” I called.
“I sent him and your pet on an errand.”
Not Dane’s voice. I spun around. My father’s body filled the doorway, and lightning exploded in my heart.
You’re not to be alone with him under any circumstances. There I was, alone. All these days and days with nothing, I’d thought maybe that one thing had stayed in the dark past where it belonged. That at least one part of him would be better.
The look in his eyes was familiar. Nothing good ever came from that look.
“What do you want, Father?”
He stepped toward me. I stepped back. “You were always such a comfort to me. I need it again.”
Despite the panic, a hard strength pulsed through me. “That wasn’t comfort. And you need to leave.”
“It’s all right, Snowflake. No one will know.”
I pushed him away and hit him, bringing shock to his eyes—I’d never dared strike him before.
The shock quickly shifted to anger.
He came back more forcefully, too quickly. He was so much larger than anyone I’d ever fought. I got a few more hits in, but a bruise over his eye and blood trickling from his lip did nothing to stop him. He caught my arms, resisting my efforts to twist away.
Then he squeezed.
Squeezing, pressing…bruises to hide in the morning…
Memories flooded my mind, pushing out what Dane taught me. It was all the opening Father needed, shoving me back onto the bed.
Too heavy, holding me down, can’t breathe.
I was stronger now. Strong enough to hold him off, but not for long. Knowing it was useless, knowing it had never worked before, I still tried. Maybe he had doubts, a voice in the corner I could use to Tip his will. I focused my awareness, shifting it to his.
I adjust my grip, hold her tighter—
I snapped back to my own mind, feeling like I’d bathed in mine-sludge. I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to see through his eyes. To feel what he felt. I couldn’t be him.
He smiled…the smile that haunted me every night as I went to sleep, every time I stepped into the cage. The smile that said he didn’t care about anything except what he wanted. His eyes mirrored me, a dark reflection of my fear.
“So much of your mother in you.”
A surge of strength bought me a space, a breath, and the will to spit in his face. “That’s right, because I’m nothing like you.”
Father’s face contorted as he lurched forward, his full weight smothering me. But his grip on my arms released. Then he rolled off, and I was pulled to my feet. Dane, his face as pale as mine, a knife in his free hand…a knife covered in blood.
I instinctively looked back at the bed.
Once I did, I couldn’t look away.
My father lay there, his eyes wide, his mouth moving soundlessly, a pool of blood blooming beneath him.
“Are you okay?” Dane asked.
I said nothing, just kept watching. Father’s eyes locked with mine. I won’t let you win, they seemed to say.
“Too late,” I whispered.
“Essie?”
Father’s body shuddered, and then went still, his eyes frozen forever. The mirrors were empty.
“Essie, we have to go!”
“What?”
Dane forced me back around. His hand went to my cheek as his eyes sought mine. “I’m sorry, I came back as soon as I realized the message wasn’t from you. But we have to go. Now. Once they know the king’s dead, they’ll lock down the palace. We have to signal the fleet.”
The fleet. The plan. And no time to do it delicately. We had to get to the command terminal and clear the planetary defenses.
“Right. Okay. Right.”
He pushed me out of the bedroom but didn’t follow right away. I tidied my clothes, finding no blood on them. Then I twisted my hair back up and pulled my boots on. If only I hadn’t taken them off so quickly, I’d have had my knife.
I could’ve done it myself.
When Dane came out, his knife was clean, and he slid it back into its sheath. He crossed the room and put his hands on my shoulders. I didn’t realize how shaky I was until he steadied me.
“I need you to tell me you’re all right.”
“Aye, I’m fine. I—I’m sorry, Dane.”
“For what?”
“For how I keep snapping at you when you’re all I’ve got. And for making you do that.”
He said nothing, but the way he gently squeezed my shoulders told me the first was forgiven, and he didn’t want an apology for the second.
I put the scene in the bedroom out of my mind, focusing on details, the plan. My gear kit was inside a cabinet built into a decorative end table. I broke away from Dane to retrieve it and strap it on.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Definitely. You have the data-chip?”
I pulled the locket from beneath my shirt and checked. The chip containing the video message and the data from the war zone was nestled securely inside between the images of my maybe-grandparents. I nodded and led the way out into the corridor.
In my head, I clearly saw my mother’s notebook. I’d studied the pages for years on Thanda before destroying those holding secrets, before I was certain the details were committed to memory. Camouflaged among the beautiful but innocent sketches, she’d drawn an intricate map of the palace’s underground labyrinth. Labs where poisons and other weapons were developed, vaults holding artifacts and valuables, and most importantly the command terminal—a secure room serving as the nerve center of all the control my father held over the planet.
It wouldn’t be easy to get to. The direct route was only accessible to the king or queen. That meant going the long way.
I walked briskly, with purpose, resisting the urge to run. Dane kept to his habitual position one step behind me. The servants we passed dipped into curtsies and bows before ducking out of the way. I didn’t worry about them. I worried about the guards.
We left the residential wing, took a shortcut past the kitchens, and arrived at a nondescript door near the strategy rooms where Father usually met with the governors and military leaders. No guard. I wasn’t sure if that was usual—maybe it was just because of the late hour—but I wouldn’t complain.
The door had an electronic lock, but nothing complicated. Just a numeric keypad. Dane kept an eye on things while I fished a slate and multitool out of my kit. I easily tied into the lock, tracked the connections, and stitched around the code. The door opened, revealing a simple lift. There were no controls inside—only one destination.
The lift took us down for what felt like at least two links. When it finally stopped, the door opened again.
A Golden Sword guard stood facing us. He looked as startled as I felt. Dane didn’t hesitate. After a flurry of motion—and some disturbingly loud shouts—the guard lay unconscious on the ground. Dane pulled him into the lift and left him there.
“Another reason to hurry,” he said. “No telling when someone will expect him to check in. You know the way?”
I looked at the corridor before us—sterile white walls with no identifying marks anywhere. The map came back to me, as clear as ever. The underground was a maze—intentionally so—and if we got lost, we were tanked.
“Straight ahead a quarter link, left past some labs, right past the bio-storage facility, then down a long corridor to the security hub. It branches off to some vaults, but we just have to go straight through to get to the command terminal.”
“Got it. Let’s move.”
The first turn went smoothly, but the labs were lined with windows. Computers and equipment like I’d never seen covered every surface, and along the back, cages to hold test animals.
And night-shift lab technicians at their stations.
When they looked at us in surprise, I glared sternly, like I had every right to be there and how dare they think otherwise. Most turned back to their work. A few glanced at each other. I didn’t know if they worked because of loyalty or some other reason, but we couldn’t chance it.
“Someone’s going to alert the guards,” I muttered to Dane.
“We just have to get through the security hub before lockdown. Keep moving.”
I did, but when we turned the next corner, I stopped short.
It was a dead end.
Impossible. I knew I had the right path. Every stroke of the map burned in my mind. I looked again.
The wall facing us reflected a brighter white than the others. Newer.
Of course. The map in my head was several years old. Things had changed.
“Think, Essie. There has to be another way around.”
Dane’s vo
ice drew me back from blind panic. I traced the corridors in my mind like a circuit schematic.
“There is. It’s a lot longer, back past the labs.”
We returned to the main corridor, ignoring the technicians, and found a pair of guards coming straight for us. One look at their eyes said it was too late to weave a nice story for them. The man going at Dane was ready for a fight. The one coming my way seemed like he just expected to grab me.
Idiot.
I kept it simple, slamming my fist into his gut. As he doubled over, I kicked one of his knees, hyperextending it, and shoved him headfirst into the wall. Dane took a second longer, but still managed to take his guard down.
Without saying so, we knew there was no use in subtlety at that point, so we ran.
We went farther down the main corridor before turning left, following that branch through an odd set of turns. Another pair of guards greeted us when we rounded the last corner, one of them giving me a harder time than the first had. I got knocked around a little before Dane hauled the man away from me.
Yet another left turn took us down a corridor with a dead end after the last intersection. We’d made it to the other side of the barrier. The right side of the intersection would take us to the security hub.
That side was exactly where a pair of guards emerged before we got there.
“I’ve got them,” Dane said. “You go.”
Splitting up sounded like a bad idea. “What?”
“I’ll catch up.”
I knew what he was saying. The guards slowed us down, and lockdown might be sounded any minute. At least one of us had to get through the hub before then, and I was the one with the data-chip.
Every part of me hated it. Do what needs doing.…
I aimed for the guard on the right, running full-out and going to my knees at the last second, sliding past him on the smooth floor.
Blazes, I’ll feel that later.
The guard tried to follow, but from the sound of things, Dane kept them both busy. I ran down a long, seamless corridor with an open door at the end. As I got closer, I saw another guard standing on the far side of the circular room. Just one. The news of our intrusion must’ve cleared out all the others. One guard between me and the corridor leading to the command terminal.
